


The bet

by hchannibloom (bleepin_ufo), murakistags



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Post-Season/Series 03 AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-11
Updated: 2016-10-11
Packaged: 2018-08-21 21:54:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8261702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bleepin_ufo/pseuds/hchannibloom, https://archiveofourown.org/users/murakistags/pseuds/murakistags
Summary: Ensconced in a love nest on the French Riviera, Alana makes a bet with Hannibal. Set AU post season 3





	

**Author's Note:**

> This little fic was born of a single headline dreamed up by murakisses and myself about Alana busting Hannibal out fo BSHCI for the "cannibooty". While we're working on the circumstances that lead up to that, I thought it might be interesting to explore how Alana reacted to that.
> 
> The ideas belong to us both, but the writing is all mine so editorial errors fall squarely at my feet.
> 
> -hchannibloom

SATURDAY  
Alana stretched lazily in the king-size bed, her naked body only half covered by the silky white sheets. Since she and Hannibal had taken up residence in the French Riviera, she seldom left the bed. Their life together was devoted to simple pleasures - namely the sunshine, good food, and enjoying one another’s bodies.

“Alana.” Hannibal called excitedly from the next room. “Come here.”

“I’m coming.” She groaned, rolling out of the bed and pulling on a silk kimono which she didn’t bother to tie.

As Alana entered the library she approached Hannibal who was seated at his desk, clad similarly to Alana with the addition of boxer shorts. She planted a kiss on the top of his head, arms snaking around his body.

“You’ve made the news.” He picked up his tablet and passed it to her.

Alana took the device, noting the Tattlecrime header and worse, the headline: ‘Lecter’s Doctor Springs Cannibal Free To Get Some Cannibooty.’ She groaned.

“It would seem you’re fooling no one, Alana. Your true motives are as plain to Freddie Lounds as they are to me.” There was a twinkle in his eye.

“I didn’t just spring you free to get some...cannibooty.” She replied distastefully. “It’s not even a real word.”

“Well then, why don’t you prove it?” He took the tablet back and put it down on the desk, wrapped his arms around Alana’s waist and pulled her into his lap. She could feel his erection digging into her buttocks, even as Hannibal began to pull her robe askance and kiss along the ridge of her shoulder.

Alana’s skin puckered at the touch, but she forced her eyes to stay open and extricated herself from Hannibal’s hold. “Fine then, I will.” Her eyes danced with defiance. “I’m going to go for one week without sex. Starting right now.”

Hannibal was delighted. “Am I to take that as a challenge?” He asked, relishing the opportunity to torment Alana. It would be annoying, not to take advantage of the brunette’s eminently responsive body multiple times a day, but Hannibal was a man of patience. Alana however, he observed, was ruled by her passions, and the recent weeks spent in their little love nest left him in no doubt that she would notice the lack of him, even without him pointing it out to her, which he of course intended to do.

Better to let her think she’ll get away with her little game, at least for a day, Hannibal thought, as he left Alana in the library with a pat to the bottom.

 

SUNDAY

The sound of church bells woke Alana. She felt very prim and straight now she had bothered to wear a silk slip to bed and the sheets weren’t in disarray from an evening of passionate lovemaking.

Still, Hannibal’s hand was curled around her hip in sleep, and should she roll over, their bodies would be touching.

As Alana moved to climb out of the bed, Hannibal’s hold tightened. “Leaving so soon?”

“You’re just going to have to do without me for six more days.” Alana replied teasingly. 

“I rather think you’re going to have more trouble doing without me.” His tone was dry.

Alana took Hannibal’s hand, planted a kiss on his palm, and climbed out of bed. “I’m going to the beach. See you tonight.”

 

MONDAY  
It was a rare thing, but Hannibal had slept in. Usually he vacated the bed hours before Alana even woke, that is, on the days they didn’t spend the morning making love. So he was surprised to wake and find the brunette gone.

Not far though. He heard the shower running.

Hannibal glanced down at his inconvenient morning erection and climbed out of the bed. Surely she wouldn’t be able to resist him after two whole days with barely a kiss exchanged between them.

As he stepped into the bathroom Hannibal smelled the sweet aroma of Alana’s vanilla and sandalwood shower gel. Her back was to the door, and he took advantage of the opportunity to sneak up on her.

Hannibal opened the shower door, slipped inside and easily came up behind Alana, wrapping his arms around her waist and rubbing his hard cock through her ass crack.

To her credit, Alana didn’t jump, instead calmly rested her hands atop his. “Is something you want Hannibal?”

He brushed away her hair, voice barely a whisper against her ear. “I want you, Alana Bloom. Don’t you miss me?” He rocked his hips against her again.

As she turned to face him, Hannibal could see in her face that she did indeed, though the words that left those perfect ruby lips were another story. “I said I’d do this.”

“You know the world isn’t going to end if you don’t. The only person you’re punishing is yourself.”

“This isn’t punishing you too? I’ve always been a woman of my word.” She smirked up at him, shutting off the water.

“You are the most stubborn person I’ve ever met, Alana.” Hannibal groaned. He took her face in his hands and kissed her hungrily. “It’s one of my favourite things about you.”

 

TUESDAY

Bacon. That was the first thought that popped into Alana’s head. She’d been up late reading the night before, and unbeknownst to her Hannibal had carefully marked her book and pulled the covers over her when she fell asleep.

She smelled breakfast even from the bedroom and heard the hiss of the pan. Alana got up, tying a robe over her scant chemise and plodded down the marble stairs.

The kitchen was spacious and modern with a large stainless steel fridge and an island bench sporting a gas cooktop. Hannibal stood behind it, clad only in his boxer shorts.

As she looked at him, Alana could imagine how his muscular arms would feel beneath her hands. She longed to run her fingers through the heart shaped patch of greying hair on his chest, to twist it between her fingers as she rode his cock. The thought sent a shiver of longing through her. She still had five days to go though, it would have to wait.

“Are you hungry?” Hannibal asked “Or have you lost your appetite now you’re not burning in excess of 2000 calories per day?”

“I could eat. As long as that’s not people bacon.”

“I suppose you’ll just have to trust me.” He said, serving her a plate of bacon and eggs and walking around the counter to sit beside her.

 

WEDNESDAY  
Alana blinked as she wandered into the cool shade of the house. It was quite a contrast to the warm sunshine outside. She’d been spending a lot of time at the beach, reading mainly, to distract herself from all the things she wanted Hannibal to do to her.

As she entered the kitchen, Hannibal was chopping potatoes for dinner. “Good afternoon, Alana.” He smiled warmly, stepping back from the counter to kiss her cheek.

She opened the fridge, wincing at the movement as she pulled out a bottle of juice.

“Is everything alright?” He put down the knife, casting his eyes over her casual outfit: cut off shorts, a bikini and one of his cotton shirts.

“It’s nothing, just a little sunburn.” She shrugged, causing a twinge of pain that registered on her face.

Hannibal moved behind her, carefully peeling away the shirt. He gasped at her flaming red skin, dotted with blisters. “You really must be more careful.” He chided. “You should’ve had me put some sunscreen on before you left.”

“I didn’t want to be tempted.” Alana confessed sheepishly.

“This bet is not more important than looking after yourself.” Hannibal found himself a little angry, though he wasn’t sure if it was more at Alana or himself.

He steered her by the hip to an ottoman, gestured for her to sit and went to the medicine cabinet.

Alana obliged, she knew it was better to go along with Hannibal than risk further upsetting him.

He returned with a bottle of aloe vera gel. “This may sting a bit, but it will also soothe. And of course help the healing process.” He began at her shoulders, smearing a generous handful of gel over the inflamed skin.

While the sensation was not exactly a pleasant one, it eased the burn a little. And Alana began to realise how much she was missing these simplest of touches. She’d shut them out, knowing they would lead her down the path of wanting Hannibal. The test would be to see if she could resist him even when he was caressing her so gently.

She lost herself in the touch, the sensation of cool contrasting strongly with the angry burn. It put her in mind of some of the games they’d played with the extremes of sensation. By the time Hannibal had covered her back and lightly touched Alana’s upper arms to indicate he was finished, she was in another place.

“Alana?” He asked, wanting to make sure she was alright.

She got to her feet, crossing the step between them and climbing into Hannibal’s lap. Her kiss was hungry, hands grasping at the collar of his casual shirt, pulling him close enough to breathe in.

His hands answered her need, pulling loose the string on her bikini and cupping her breasts. Hannibal savaged Alana’s mouth, leaving a trail of bites from her lips, down her neck until his mouth closed around her nipple.

“Hannibal,” Alana whimpered, her need growing almost beyond the point of reason. There was a reason she couldn’t do this, she reminded herself.

“Hannibal, stop.” She forced the words out, in contrast to everything she was feeling.

He pulled back immediately, his own chest heaving with desire, hands playing along Alana’s sides in the hope that she would change her mind.

“I can do this. I can be strong.” She said resolutely, climbing off his lap.

Hannibal took a moment to compose himself and resumed cooking dinner.

 

THURSDAY

When Alana returned to the house after a brisk morning walk she found it empty. Hannibal rarely strayed far, being a man on the run, but there was barely a trace of his presence even in his beloved kitchen.

As she opened the fridge to retrieve some sparkling water, a crisp cream envelope fell out. Alana retrieved it, scanning the note within as she drank straight from the bottle. It was uncharacteristically brief, but unmistakably in Hannibal’s florid hand:

“Dinner tonight. Just be your usual elegant self.”

The edges of Alana’s lips twitched into a smile, which soon bloomed into a broad grin. She knew _exactly_ what she had to do.

 

Alana got home in the mid afternoon and spent a lazy few hours grooming herself to perfection. Her goal was to be absolutely irresistible. She lingered upstairs, fussing with her hair, while she listened to Hannibal cooking up a storm in the kitchen beneath her.

Finally, as the last rays of sun began to disappear behind the horizon, she slowly descended the stairs.

Hannibal heard her heels clicking against the marble and discarded his apron. He had donned a slick dark grey 3 piece suit, paired with a black silk shirt and red paisley tie. His leather shoes reflected the light from the filigreed wall sconce.

He smelled Alana before he saw her, that delicious and heady combination of vanilla and roses, with an undercurrent of musk that was a mark of her womanliness. Her shoes came into view first; low-heeled mules in gold satin, simple and sophisticated.

The remainder of her outfit was far less understated, however. First came the fall of shimmering gold crepe. At knee length a tail of delicate gold beading began. Hannibal’s eyes followed it as it curled up over Alana’s hip and onto an empire-line bodice of gold silk. As the beading petered out, Hannibal’s gaze came to rest on Alana’s lovely face. She was exquisite. There was no other word for it. Hannibal longed to fall at her feet and kiss his way up every inch of her fine form. But he wasn’t ready to admit defeat so thoroughly just yet. The night was young, and he could tell from her expression that she found him handsome, even if she wasn’t quite as taken with him as he was with her.

Finally she reached him. Hannibal offered his arm, guiding her out to the patio where torches burned to illuminate a linen-clad table.

After he had seated Alana, Hannibal returned to the kitchen, laying out the entree. He paid more attention to Alana than to the meal, her smokey eye makeup and nude lips, delicate gold pendant that hinted at her decolletage. 

She was watching him too, he realised. They passed the meal in near silence, communicating in increasingly more intimate body language. After the dessert had been cleared away Hannibal helped Alana to her feet, guiding her back towards the house.

As soon as they stepped inside, Hannibal backed Alana against the bannister, wrenching her head back so he could probe her mouth with his tongue. She answered his need with her whole body, arching against him, her throat bared and inviting as they finally parted for air.

Hannibal dropped his mouth to her neck, adopting a lighter, more teasing pace. His hands trailed over the buttery silk of her bodice and along the intricate beadwork before pulling away completely.

Alana gazed upward, pupils dilated. Was Hannibal really going to stop there?

“Bedroom. Now” He commanded, appreciating the low dip in the back of Alana’s dress as he followed her up the stairs.

As they entered the room, Hannibal took hold of Alana again, coming up behind her and nuzzling her neck. Her scent would betray her desire even if she chose to continue her ridiculous crusade of celibacy. 

He left her sunburned back well enough alone, instead slipping his hands beneath the cap sleeves of the dress, grazing the silk over her bare nipples as he pushed the dress slowly down over her hips and into a glimmering heap on the floor.

She turned in his arms then, clad only in a pair of nude lace panties, French cut, of course. Hannibal would hardly be titilated by a garment so vulgar as a thong.

Alana pressed her mouth to Hannibal’s. This course of action wasn’t helping her resolve, but a small part of her mind maintained that she could end this whenever she wanted to. She pushed Hannibal’s jacket off his shoulders, craving the touch of his silk shirt on her near-naked form.

Hannibal began to advance on Alana until she reached the bed. His hands cupped her bottom, tracing the delicate lace of her underwear for a minute before he pushed them to the floor.

“H-Hannibal.” Alana breathed as he began to loom over her. She wanted to tell him to stop, but she didn’t seem to be able to form the words.

“Is there something you need, Alana?” His tone was casual, even as he seated her on the edge of the bed, dropping to his knees.

Hannibal’s mouth planted kisses along her foot, nipping lightly at her ankle bone, then trailing upwards.

In the face of such a delicate and deliberate touch, Alana moaned involuntarily. “I need you,” she keened.

His lips were on the back of her knee now, kisses growing slower and more sensual as he worked his way up Alana’s thigh.

Alana’s hips bucked. _No, we shouldn’t_ She thought, even as her hands tangled encouragingly in Hannibal’s hair.

Now his nose was nudging her clitoris as he inhaled her aroused scent.

“Oh god Hannibal please-” She begged, but her formidable will won out in the end. “-Stop Hannibal.” She demanded, pulling his head back.

He growled at her, not appreciating being denied the sweet taste of her. Instead he bit down hard on her thigh. It was not a nip, but a real bite that drew blood, borne of the need to taste Alana. 

It wasn’t the sensation Alana’s body is expecting, but as the surge of pain flooded her senses, she found herself spasming with pleasure under Hannibal’s touch anyway. Her long whimper sounded like music to Hannibal’s ears.

Hannibal suckled at the wound as her writhing subsided, a hand on her waist. They were both breathing hard. Hannibal’s face smeared with Alana’s blood, he wore a look of ecstasy.

 

FRIDAY

When Hannibal woke up, Alana was gone. He assumed after their close encounter the night before she’d gotten up early to escape the tension between them by gazing out in the azure water.

He frowned as he noticed her book was still on the nightstand. She wouldn’t have left without it. Then he heard a faint noise, a moan perhaps?

Hannibal pulled himself to his feet, trying not to panic. He followed the sound to the palatial bathroom.

“Alana?” He called as he swung open the door, stepping onto the marble tile.

Hannibal’s senses were deliciously assaulted as soon as he opened the door. 

Alana was perched on the edge of the tub, clad in Hannibal’s black silk shirt from the night before, her fingers thrusting expertly, hard and deep. Her eyes were closed, lost in the fantasy of Hannibal rocking above her, teeth sunken deep into her bottom lip. He could see the dark marks of his teeth on her thigh, and he felt his cock stir.

And yet Hannibal’s instant arousal was caused by more than sight alone. He could smell Alana’s rich, musky scent. The scent of what she was attempting to deny herself. He wanted to take her sticky hand and suck each delicate finger clean, to replace those fingers with that part of him which she imagined.

“Alana.” He said throatily, stepping forward and grasping her by the hair, the tent in his boxers almost at her eye level. Hannibal prised her hand from her crotch, inhaling the scent on her fingers deeply before he slipped them, each in turn, into his mouth.

Alana’s expression was wild with unspent desire. “We can’t Hannibal. Not for one more day.” She sounded like she was going to cry at the prospect of waiting even that long.

Hannibal kissed her palm, the taste of her salty-sweet juices fresh on his tongue. “Then allow me, please.” 

Alana braced herself for his touch, shuddering when his hand delved between her silken folds, teasing her clit before easily slipping two fingers inside her vagina.

She rolled her hips against his thrusts, his longer fingers and better leverage reaching places she couldn’t on her own.

The echoes of her cries and whimpers against the tile sounded like the sweetest symphony to Hannibal, especially when Alana cried his name. He could not deny her her pleasure, bringing her to orgasm again and again until he felt a rush of wetness against his hand.

He longed to press his face between her legs, to milk the very last of her pleasure from her. But already they’d all but violated the terms of the bet, and he wasn’t about to take advantage of Alana’s vulnerable state for the sake of winning, at least not at the moment.

As Hannibal eased his hand away his mouth found Alana’s, and she held him firm and close until her heartbeat returned to normal.

 

SATURDAY  
Despite the fact they’d gone to bed on their own sides, a token measure against temptation, Alana and Hannibal had found each other in sleep. The cannibal was spooned up behind his lover, his nose buried in her hair, hand holding her satin-clad figure flush against him.

Hannibal awoke first, taking a moment to savour this closeness before he moved onto more pressing matters. And they were pressing. He had touched Alana but their encounters had been incomplete. Perhaps it was that he hadn’t possessed her. Perhaps he just missed the immense pleasure he got from touching her. In any case his arousal was becoming a distraction, one that needed attention, and soon.

He tucked a strand of Alana’s hair behind her ear, dragging his lips lightly across the sensitive spot.

She stirred, brushing him away in sleep.

Hannibal tried again, this time letting the low rumble of his voice vibrate against the shell of her ear. “Alana, do you know what day it is?” He couldn’t help the smirk that rose on his lips.

Alana grunted. She’d stayed up reading until almost dawn, and even now at mid-morning she was tired. As she blinked the sleep from her eyes, realisation dawned and a lazy smile plastered itself on her face. “It’s Saturday.”

Hannibal kissed her shoulder. “Yes, it is. I must say, I’m impressed. Perhaps I should send Freddie Lounds a note asking her to amend her article.”

Alana chuckled, rolling over to face Hannibal. She looked at him, tracing the shape of his face with her thumbs, a sheepish but irrepressible grin on her face. “I missed you.” She said with mock coyness, as her hands slowly moved down Hannibal’s naked chest and danced along the waistband of his boxers.

Suddenly, with a growl, Hannibal rolled Alana onto her back, pressing his hard length against her through his boxer shorts. His hands pinned her delicate wrists above her head, and his breath was hot and menacing in Alana’s face. “If you ever do anything like this again, make no mistake, I will kill you.” He slowly pulled back, a more tender look settling on his features. “And I do rather enjoy you alive, Alana.”

For a moment he was gone, just far enough to divest himself of his garments. Alana stripped away her scant lingerie too, wanting to be as close to Hannibal as possible.

They shared a long look, an acknowledgement of their intimate connection that existed outside their sex life but was at its most vulnerable and pure when their bodies merged and there was no wit and intellect to shield their feelings.

As Hannibal returned, Alana took his straining cock in her hand, refamiliarising herself with the way its curved length fit in her palm.

Hannibal closed his eyes as she stroked, willing himself not to thrust himself into oblivion at her delicate touch.

“Alana,” He moaned warningly, gently placing a hand on her wrist, a suggestion that she release her hold on his member.

She obliged, leaning back against the pillows as Hannibal pressed his body along hers, bare cock digging into her hip as his fingers found her clitoris, circling furiously.

“Oh!” Alana sighed, her body arching up to meet his warm skin and feverish movements. She came without warning, muscles clenching in a way that made her painfully aware of his absence.

“Please Hannibal,” She begged, hand reaching for his cock again, this time guiding it to her entrance.

Hannibal was always obliged to heed Alana’s begging. It was such a delicious expression of her need for him. Not just want, but _need_. He pressed his length inside of her, a throaty groan issuing from his lips.

As he reached the hilt, he paused, just to appreciate how hot and tight and wet Alana’s vagina felt around him. She tried to move but he held her still, kissing her neck as he savoured every aspect of the sensation.

When he had memorised the feeling, he withdrew and then eased back inside Alana just as slowly.

“Oh god, Hannibal,” She whimpered. More begging. Perhaps she mistakenly thought he could keep this up for hours.

As he withdrew a second time, his hand traced down her hip, gathering a thigh and lifting Alana’s leg over his shoulder.

His next thrust was firmer and meticulously targeted. The whimper Alana gave as he hit that spot was as powerful as her touch.

Hannibal began to thrust evenly, but not too quickly, each time eliciting delicious sounds of pleasure from Alana. He maintained control only barely as she came around him, the vowels in his name drawn out long and appreciative on Alana’s lips.

He paused a moment, licking beads of sweat from Alana’s chest, his mixed with her own. As his hand brushed the side of her face, Alana’s eyes opened, silently acknowledging the raw hunger in Hannibal’s gaze. She pulled his mouth down against hers, hand meandering down his naked form and squeezing his ass, pulling him deeper within her body.

Hannibal didn’t require more encouragement than that. He began moving slowly, but Alana’s incessant gaze, the lust building in her eyes, spurred him to speed. She was slippery in all the right ways, and as Hannibal moved into warp speed, her eyes slipped closed, lost in pleasure.

“Fuck Alana” He hissed “Come with me.” With a grunt and groan from Hannibal and a cacophonous cry from Alana, the pair shuddered their release in perfect unison.

They lay against the silken sheets, bathed in sweat as noon rose over the villa, spent and finally satisfied.


End file.
